Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/397794.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      South_Park
  Relationship:
      Kyle_Broflovski/Eric_Cartman
  Character:
      Kyle_Broflovski, Eric_Cartman
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-05-04 Words: 5866
****** Cartman's Silly Sex Crime ******
by Ariel_Rose_(thatchaoticart)
Summary
     One day in P.E. class leads to a broken nose, disturbing fantasies,
     and eventual gratification for our favourite Jew. And who's to blame?
     Cartman, of course.
Notes
     They're either sixteen or seventeen in this fic, but either way,
     older teenagers. Enjoy!
Out of all the classes Kyle Broflovski took at South Park High School, he liked
P.E. the least. It wasn't an academic class, and unless they were playing
basketball or football—only in the summer months of August, September, and
May—he found that elementary recess had been much more enjoyable. Dodgeball
sucked (unless Kyle got to throw the ball at Cartman), kickball sucked (unless
Kyle got to kick the ball at Cartman), and track and field sucked (unless Kyle
got to trip Cartman). Quite honestly, Kyle never thought a day would come when
he would hate P.E. more than he already did.
"Today we'll be doing relay races," said Ms. Shackelford, a stout, plump woman
who didn't look like she'd ever exercised in her life. "Now get dressed."
"Goddammit, I hate P.E.," Cartman complained loudly in the boys' locker room.
"It's always something faggy."
"You just want to sit on your fat ass," said Kyle, already tired of hearing
Cartman. He'd reached his bitching quota for the day in science class.
"Shut the fuck up, you Jewish piece of crap!"
"Both of you shut up!" Token shouted. Stan and Kenny looked relieved for the
ensuing silence while Kyle and Cartman continued dressing without remark.
Back outside, Bebe and Red were complaining about how awful the required P.E.
uniforms made them look while Wendy tried, in vain, to explain that they were
necessary for maintaining proper gender conduct. Cartman didn't help matters,
since he always made comments about the girls looking "like really ugly dudes"
in the outfits, today proving to be no exception.
"Black, you'll be at marker one on lane three, Broflovski you'll be on marker
two, and Cartman, you'll be on three. Stevens, you'll be on marker one in lane
four, Stotch on marker two, and McCormick, you'll be on three. Lane five's
going to be Tucker—"
"Goddammit," Kyle muttered. Of all the students in their class, of course it
had to be Cartman he would have to rely on.
"So, Kyle, ready for our big moment?" Cartman said as they walked to their
markers and grinned at Kenny.
Kenny rolled his eyes, but Kyle was sure he'd heard him laugh. Before he could
ask, Ms. Shackelford yelled for them to hurry.
Kyle hated running. He was naturally thin, but sucked ass at running. But he
was competitive, and he swore if any of the other teams beat his out because of
Cartman's fat fucking ass, he would have his revenge. When he got the baton
from Token, he thought of the others winning and the adrenaline propelled him
forward. He reached the brunette after what seemed like an eternity.
Kyle thrust his left arm forward, holding out the baton, but it was Cartman's
right hand that shot back. His fingers wrapped around Kyle's cock, and the
redhead yelped and stumbled as Cartman squeezed lightly. Kyle dropped the baton
and tripped, pitching forward on the crumb-rubber track. His body landed with a
hard smack, the bones in his nose making sick crunching sounds. Butters cried
out as he narrowly missed running over Kyle, who was sprawled out over the two
lanes.
"Kyle! Are you okay?" Butters shouted, attracting the attention of everyone
else as he kneeled down.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kyle saw Ms. Shackelford barrelling toward him.
"Yeah, I'm fine, except for the broken nose," said Kyle bitterly, struggling to
sit up and dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Blood and spittle
was slick on his hand. Grains of rubber stuck in his knees.
"Butters, take Kyle to the nurse," said Ms. Shackelford. Casting a dark glare
at a smirking Cartman, Kyle headed toward the school building with Butters, who
insisted on wrapping an arm around Kyle's waist to 'hold him up in case of
blood loss.'
"Boy, you sure took quite a spill, Kyle!" said Butters excitedly.
Kyle gritted his teeth, trying to figure out a good way to say "Yeah, because
Cartman manhandled me," but stuck with silence. He only explained that he
"tripped" to Nurse Starkey, who immediately set out with berating Kyle for his
"carelessness" while shoving his nose back into some semblance of place,
stuffing gauze up his nose, and shoving an ice pack in his hands.
"Apply that every few hours for ten to twenty minutes at a time until the
swelling goes down," she sat flatly. "Don't fall again, Broflovski."
"Thanks," Kyle bit back a string of obscenities threatening to spill out and
walked back with Butters as far as the locker room, where he grabbed his things
and headed home. His last class was Physics, and he could probably skip the
rest of the year and come out with an 'A.'
"Kyle!" shrieked Sheila Broflovski as Kyle slammed shut the door. "What
happened?"
Again, the urge to shout "Nothing, except Cartman grabbed my penis!" was almost
overwhelming, but Kyle held his tongue.
"P.E. happened," he said and sighed. It was then Kyle made the vow to punch
Cartman in the face at the next, best opportunity. That moment couldn't come
soon enough.
Kyle clenched his jaw and set his eyes straight forward upon entering class the
next morning. He knew if he looked at Cartman, he'd get detention or probably
expelled for violence in the classroom.
"Wow," Kenny remarked, eyeing Kyle's bandaged nose and blackened eyes. "That's
hot, Kyle."
"Fuck off."
Cartman sniggered loudly.
Kyle sat in absolute silence the entire class period, and when the bell rang,
he spotted Cartman ducking into a bathroom. He charged in after him, fuelled by
pure adrenaline, and dropping his backpack, shoved Cartman against the wall.
"What the fuck did you think you were doing?"
"Groping you, duh," Cartman replied, and looking almost bored, rolled his eyes.
Kyle shoved harder, fingers clenched around a fistful of Cartman's shirt.
"Why?"
"Well, you see Kyle, this one time, I was all like 'Jews have tiny dicks,'
right? And then Stan was like, 'No they don't, Kyle's is huge, and you know,
I've been thinking, you are not fat at all.' And Kenny said, 'How do you know
what Kyle's penis looks like?' and Stan said he saw you in the locker room
once. What a gaywad."
Kyle's cheeks burned.
"You stupid asshole, you broke my nose so you could feel me up in the middle of
a race!"
"Well, Jesus, Kyle, next time I'll feel you up in the middle of class."
"You won't be feeling me up at all when I cut your fucking hands off!" yelled
Kyle.
He hadn't noticed Craig standing at the sinks until he spoke.
"I always knew you were gay," he said flatly to Cartman. His expression was one
mixed of intrigue, amusement, and disgust.
Cartman scoffed at least six times.
"Craig, I am not gay, Craig." Cartman sputtered.
"And you're not fat, either," said Craig, rolling his eyes. Stan and Kenny
entered then, Stan's mouth dropping open in horror while Kenny just looked
excited.
Kyle stepped closer to Cartman, ignoring the three other boys, and held
Cartman's gaze.
"Don't you ever touch me again," he hissed.
"Don't tell me what to do!" exclaimed Cartman, and wrapped his fingers around
Kyle's balls.
Kyle reacted on instinct and though he knew the intense pain it caused, he also
knew he wanted Cartman to fucking hurt, and so he kneed Cartman square in the
balls. Cartman's ensuing yelp sounded like music to Kyle's ears, and he
released him, the fat boy falling to the bathroom floor in agony.
Kenny laughed wildly, Stan looked between awe and alarm, and even Craig
snorted.
"Stan," gasped Cartman. "Help me."
"No way, dude. I'm leaving," said Stan, shifting his backpack to the other
shoulder.
"Stan, don't leave me here to die, you asshole!"
"You're on your own with this one. See ya, Kyle."
The door slammed as Stan fled the scene.
"Kenny! Kenny, help me! Kyle's gone crazy!" Cartman cried, still curled up in
the fetal position. But Kenny was laughing too hard, and Craig just looked
amused.
"I swear to Abraham, Cartman," said Kyle, finally straightening his shirt and
hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. "You touch me again and you're dead,
fat boy."
"Fuck…you…Kahl."
"No, you won't," said Kyle sternly.
He turned and left with a giggling Kenny in tow. God, that felt amazing. He'd
have to do it more often.
"Stan!" yelled Kyle upon seeing his best friend in the cafeteria.
"Oh, God," moaned Stan, squeezing shut his eyes.
"What the fuck, dude?" he demanded. "Why would you talk to Cartman about my
penis?"
"Okay, here's what happened," Stan sighed. "Cartman said something about your
dong being small, and I told him not to be a gaywad, and then he said Jews were
tiny like the Japanese. So I told him that's not true. Kenny asked how 'the
fuck I knew' what your junk looks like, and then Cartman called me a fag. Yeah,
that's pretty much it."
Kyle narrowed his eyes.
"How do you know, dude?"
"We've been friends since we were, like, two. Are you saying you've never seen
my dick?"
"That's not the point! The point is that Cartman knows how big my penis is, and
I have a broken nose because of it!"
"So, what exactly did he do?" Stan asked hesitantly.
"He grabbed it during P.E.! That's why I fell!"
"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Stan. "I didn't know, Kyle—I'm sorry!"
"I'll give you my medical bill, then."
"Long as you don't kick me in the nuts," Stan said with a slight grin as they
entered the lunch line.
Meanwhile, "Told you Cartman's gay," said Craig to the boys at lunch. "He
grabbed Kyle's dick at P.E. the other day. Clyde, you owe me twenty bucks."
"What?" exclaimed Token. "Why would he do that?"
"He heard from Stan it was big."
"Well? Is it?" asked Clyde.
"Apparently," shrugged Craig. "Cartman seemed to think it was adequate."
"Craig, you are such a fag for calling me gay," said Cartman loudly, plopping
down uninvited at their table. "Kyle and I are having a fight. Can't sit with
him so I might as well sit with you fucking losers," he said with a deep sigh
before shovelling a meatball sub in his mouth.
The boys were silent for a few moments before Butters burst out laughing,
pointing at Cartman.
"You're a faggot! Hey everybody, Eric's a faggot!"
"Goddammit, Butters, you asshole! Like you don't love taking it up the butt!"
"Eric, f-f-fuuuuuhhhh fuuuuuuh? F-fuck off." Jimmy said.
The disabled boy took at least forty-five seconds to finish the sentence
Cartman knew what Jimmy was going to say after five.
"Well, fine! If you guys are gonna be assholes then I won't sit with any of
you! Have fun with your faggy little orgy!" Cartman yelled, storming off to sit
at a table by himself. It wasn't his fault Kyle had such an awesome peen,
anyway.
Kyle dealt with the curious stares in class with clenched fists beneath his
desk and didn't know if he'd ever been so happy in his life to hear the final
bell ring. Stan and Kenny followed him to his house to play a new video game
Ike had gotten the week before. Kyle lay on the floor, an ice pack balanced on
his nose, while Stan and Kenny sat on the sofa above him.
"I just don't know what the hell Cartman's deal is," said Kyle, imagining
kneeing Cartman in the balls over and over again.
"Dude, he totally wants to fuck you," said Kenny. Kyle was sure if he hadn't
already been lying down, he would have fallen over.
"What? Yeah, right."
"Remember that time when we were nine and Cartman always wanted you to suck his
balls?" said Stan. "I think Kenny's right."
Kyle pulled a face and moaned.
"That's so disgusting. God, I wish you hadn't brought that back up."
"Truth hurts," Kenny shrugged.
They played a while longer, Kyle taking a break to join in, and watched the new
episode of Terrence and Philip. Later, once Stan and Kenny dispersed for
dinner, Ike wandered in during another one of Kyle's icing periods.
"Dinner's almost done. So what happened to you, anyway? You look like shit."
"Cartman grabbed me during P.E. yesterday," Kyle said flatly. "I tripped."
"Grabbed what, your junk?" Ike smirked. "Oh, wow, who saw that one coming?"
Kyle sighed, squeezing shut his eyes.
"Christ, not you too."
"Dude, he sneaks into your bedroom. The thought never crossed your mind that he
might have the hots for his favourite Jew?"
"Oh, shut up, I get it," said Kyle, sitting up. "And how did you know about
that? Just how much does he sneak into my room?"
"I don't know. All I know is one night, I got for some water, and he was
walking around. I asked if you knew he was here, and he said 'Not yet.' That
was pretty creepy. I'm pretty sure he cackled. Yep, he wants to do you.
Probably violently."
Kyle shuddered.
"Boys! Dinner!" Sheila shouted from the kitchen. "How were your days?" she
asked once all four were seated.
Well, I kicked Cartman in the balls so it was pretty great, Kyle wanted to say,
but merely replied "Fine."
Ike sniggered, but scowled when Kyle kicked him beneath the table.
"It was good," replied the younger Broflovski sibling. "I made a one hundred on
my Algebra III test."
"Oh, Ike! That's wonderful!"
Kyle remained silent through most of dinner, and immediately after, retreated
to the shower then crawled into bed. He couldn't sleep well; no surprise, since
Ike had been so generous to tell him about Cartman's nocturnal wanderings. As
gay as it sounded, Kyle thought about Cartman the entire time he was in the
shower, replaying the conversations he'd had with Stan at lunch and then with
Kenny and Stan before dinner. Maybe Cartman's obsession with Kyle went beyond
being a force of habit.
By three A.M., Cartman hadn't appeared and Kyle hadn't heard any footsteps or
other signs of life in the house, so he drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Unfortunately, he couldn't keep the fat boy away, as much as he tried, even in
his dreams.
"You thought you got rid of me, didn't you Kyle?" said Cartman, and reached
down to grab Kyle again, squeezing lightly around the base of his cock. Kyle's
body reacted quickly, as much as he tried to control it, and Cartman's grin
only widened.
"Get off me!"
"Get you off? Whatever you want, Jew-boy," said Cartman almost…huskily?
Kyle sat up, knocking the nonexistent hand of Eric Cartman out of the way. He
blinked around blearily at his empty room then turned his gaze to his own
crotch, where a painful boner made its presence quite known. Glancing around
the room and even beneath his bed to make sure that Eric Cartman had not, in
fact, decided to drop by for a nightly visit, he shoved his hand beneath his
boxers and curled his fingers around his shaft, a strange hybrid of cursing and
moaning escaping his lips. Applying more pressure, he began pumping in a
harder, more erratic rhythm, sliding his thumb over the head to catch the
precum. The slippery texture increased his sensation, and his back arched up
off the bed as he squeezed his cock tighter. As his other hand drifted up to
twist his nipple, Cartman's face swam in front of his, a smirk wide across it,
his breath hot and fast across Kyle's face, but Kyle was too close to care; his
hips bucked wildly as he came, as he whispered Cartman's name in the
darkness—something that effectively destroyed the euphoria of post-orgasm.
"Cartman," he repeated, more loudly this time, sitting up and looking around
wildly. No trace of the brunette could be found, and Kyle glanced down at the
mess he'd made. He scrambled out of his boxers and mopped himself off, buried
the garment at the bottom of his laundry basket and fished out a clean pair. At
least maybe now he'd be able to fall into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning, Stan pulled him aside in the hallway.
"What are you going to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"About Cartman," said Stan, glancing around furtively.
"What the hell do you mean, what am I going to do? I told him if he touches me,
I'm going to kill him."
"Like that's ever stopped him," Stan rolled his eyes, and as if to prove his
point, Cartman sidled up to them.
"Hey guyyyyys," he said, grinning pretty damn broadly for someone who'd been
kicked in the balls the day before.
"Fuck you," retorted Kyle, blushing as his body reminded him of what he'd
fantasized about last night.
"Sounds like a challenge," said Cartman gleefully.
"Told you," said Stan.
"What did you tell him, you asshole?" shouted Cartman.
"ERIC CARTMAN! GET TO CLASS BEFORE I GET YOU TO IT MYSELF!" shouted Mr. Peel,
the math teacher who had had Cartman two years in a row for Algebra I.
"I don't know, dude," said Kyle as he and Stan walked off towards their next
class. "I'll figure something out. Maybe there's someone I can ask about that
sort of thing."
Stan snorted.
"Like who, Mr. Garrison?"
"Mr. Garrison?" Kyle poked his head in his class during lunch period. As luck
would have it, Garrison had followed them into middle school and then high
school, where he taught history (which had been a scary experience).
"Yes, Kyle?"
"I need to talk to you about something very personal," Kyle sat in the seat
next to the desk.
"Well, sure," Garrison looked befuddled as to why Kyle would trust him. But
with Chef gone, Kyle didn't have much of a choice.
"I think Cartman likes me more than is…well, normal, I guess, or healthy."
"Like Eric Cartman's the epitome of healthy, but please continue, Kyle."
"Well, the other day in P.E., he felt me up. That's why I look like this."
"I was wondering why you look like a domestic abuse victim," said Garrison with
a short chuckle; Kyle felt the urge to punch him, but sat patiently. "So you
think Eric's got a man-crush on you. Well, stop the fucking presses, Kyle, I
could have told you he's gay as a daffodil in third grade."
Kyle growled.
"In my defense, I try not to think of Cartman's sexual preferences."
"Well, that may be best, Kyle," Garrison looked relieved. "I don't blame you.
Just tell Eric to fuck off. Worked well enough for me, I guess."
Kyle sighed out of pure hopelessness.
"I've been telling him that for my whole life. It doesn't work."
"Christ then, Kyle, just do him already, and maybe he'll shut up."
Kyle felt his face grow hot and his cock twitched almost mockingly.
"…thanks."
"All right, Kyle, feel free to come to me with your gay little problems any
time. Now get your buns outta my classroom."
Over the next few weeks, Kyle mulled Garrison's words over in his head, his
notes for classes filling with flowcharts and lists, ones Cartman tried to peek
at constantly. If Kyle didend up having sex with Cartman just to shut him
up—something Kyle did not foresee happening—he wondered if it would work.
Probably not, but then again, he had been talking about his genitalia in
conjunction with Kyle's for years, and that probably hinted at some underlying
psychological attraction he'd felt since he was old enough.
When Kyle wasn't psychoanalyzing his fat "friend," he was masturbating to
fantasies that always ended up turning into Cartman near the end. He still did
normal-Kyle stuff, like play basketball with the guys, or do homework, or
complain about his nose while it healed. But on the list of activities Kyle
participated in, masturbation and psychoanalysis were at the top.
Aside from Cartman taking an interest in Kyle's notes, he acted the same. He
was the same whiny dickwad, spewing anti-Semitic hate-speech and manipulating
others—including making fun of Wendy's latest speech in Health on pancreatic
cancer, which was a stupid fucking move after the breast cancer fiasco in
fourth grade, but of course, Cartman never thought of consequences unless it
involved Christmas.
Kyle didn't encounter any nocturnal visits from Cartman the first week after
the P.E. accident, and while it always flickered in his mind before he fell
asleep, he gave up on staying up to make sure Cartman wouldn't climb through
his window or burst out of his closet, and fell asleep sooner—usually with a
little help from the sleepiness jacking off provided.
One thing was for sure. Kyle Broflovski would never, ever forgive Eric Cartman
for this.
"Hello, Kahl."
Kyle's eyes snapped open and he stared sleepily at Cartman, who leaned back
against the window, arms folded over his chest.
"What the fuck, Cartman!" The redhead leapt out of bed faster than he ever had,
consequently swaying as his vision went black. He dropped back onto his
mattress and once he could see again, he stood and inched closer to Cartman.
"Don't be so hasty, Kyle," grinned Cartman. "What good are you fainting all
over me?"
"What the fuck is your problem? Why do you come in my room at night? I lock it
now!"
"Oh, Kyle, like your window lock is so complex. It's barbaric, really. You
probably get off on the thought of someone watching you."
Kyle started; the last few times he'd jerked it, he'd thought of that—never of
Cartman specifically, at least on purpose—but there was no way Cartman would
know that about him. He shook himself. It was just another stupid tactic to get
under his skin.
"Ooh, so you are into voyeurism, then," Cartman grinned.
"That has nothing to do with this!" Kyle shouted, immediately lowering his
voice after before his mother heard. "You still haven't answered my question."
"And I don't have to," Cartman got a smug look over his features that made Kyle
want to punch him more than he already did.
"You're psycho!"
"And you can't stop thinking about me, Kahl," drawled Cartman. "I see it in
your eyes every day, Jew-boy."
Kyle finally reached his boiling point and reached out and clutched Cartman's
junk as hard as he could muster. Cartman winced and then shifted, looking
slightly uncomfortable. Kyle jerked back his hand, pulling a face as he
realized Cartman was hard beneath his palm.
"Sick, dude!"
"Oh, like you don't want it," Cartman rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were
pink.
Kyle opened his mouth to rebut the accusation, but closed it again. Did he?
Cartman floated through his thoughts more and more lately—always tinged with
hate, of course—and he'd woken up every night this past week hard. When he'd
gotten off, Cartman had always been the one whose name he cried out. But why?
Why the stupid anti-Semitic asshole he'd known his whole life?
"Wow, Kyle, don't be so quick to prove me wrong," Cartman said, unable to stop
the grin from spreading across his face.
"Shut up," Kyle pushed him hard against the wall, a familiar position for them
both by this point.
"Ooh, Kahl likes it rough."
Before Kyle could retort, Cartman grabbed a fistful of Kyle's shirt and yanked
him forward, Kyle's forehead banging into his, their mouths clumsily crashing
together. Cartman's teeth latched onto Kyle's bottom lip so hard that he tasted
his own blood. His nose stung, but Cartman held him tighter against him,
grinding his hips against Kyle's. Kyle was annoyed to feel the pain of his
erection rubbing against Cartman's through the thin fabric of his cotton pajama
pants.
Kyle pushed a hand against Cartman's stomach, trying to use him as a brace to
push away, but Cartman grabbed his wrist and pulled it beneath the waistband of
his jeans, Kyle clutching awkwardly at Cartman's cock. He squeezed hard,
thinking it would hurt Cartman, but he only shivered and gave Kyle a grin he
wanted to slap right off his stupid fat face. So Kyle grabbed Cartman's hand
and shoved it down his own pants. Cartman's shorter fingers wrapped around
Kyle's erection. It was a completely different feeling this time around, and
Kyle's hips bucked uncontrollably into Cartman's hand.
"No," Kyle hissed, pulling his hand away from Cartman; Cartman seemed content
to keep his hand on Kyle. "If we're going to do this, it's going to be on my
terms."
Cartman snorted.
"And uh, what would those be? That I don't take your delicate virginity?"
"You have to suck my balls."
Cartman's mouth opened and closed as he made guttural noises in his throat,
looking very much like a fat fish.
"But—"
"You heard right, tubby."
"Look, Kahl, I am a man of compromise. We can talk about this."
"The only talking you'll be doing is through a mouthful of balls, telling me
how much you love it." Jesus Christ, am I channelling Cartman now?
"Kyle, that is just vulgar, okay? That is unnecessary."
"You mean like everything you've ever done to me ever?" Kyle shrieked.
"Hey! I saved your life! Oh, balls."
Cartman's grip loosened as he realized he'd let slip something he wasn't
supposed to.
"Like when?"
"Oh, uh," Cartman looked as though he were praying for a miracle. "Like the
time I gave you my kidney. Willingly and from the depths of my heart."
Kyle groaned.
"Oh, please. That is not the way it went!"
Cartman squeezed again, grinning evilly, and Kyle gasped with the sensation.
"You talk too much, Jew."
"Okay then, on your knees, fatass."
"But—but—"
"Fine. I'll go tell my mom that you've been sneaking into my house, and that
you're here and you're trying to rape me. Don't believe me?"
"Don't threaten me with your goddamn Jew mom, Kyle!" Cartman furiously tugged
at the drawstring of Kyle's pajama pants, loosening them. "I'll never let you
forget this."
"Oh, I'm sure."
Kyle hissed as Cartman slid his boxers down over his cock. His heart thudded
heavily in his chest, and on the surface he was revolted, but he knew it was
going to be awesome. He'd never gotten a blowjob—actually, he'd never gotten
much of anything except making out with Rebecca when he was thirteen, and that
hadn't been all that pleasant—but Cartman seemed willing, as much as he made
stupid little whining noises. And for the briefest of moments, he thought he
knew what it was like to be Stan; he felt like he would throw up right all over
Cartman, but his mind went utterly blank as Cartman's tongue flicked out
against his skin. Who was Stan again?
Cartman's hands rested on the backs of Kyle's thighs, and as he wrapped his
lips around the head of Kyle's cock, the Jewish boy drew in a fast breath, very
much wishing he'd been against the wall as his knees buckled. But Cartman's
hands held Kyle in place, and as he applied more pressure with his tongue and
sucked more of Kyle's length into his mouth, Kyle thought he would never feel
anything this fucking fantastic again. He couldn't think about anything but how
good Cartman's mouth felt and was only vaguely aware of his hands clutching
fistfuls of Cartman's hair, and the moans Cartman was making deep in his
throat, and the erratic thrusts of his hips as he felt the tightening in the
pit of his stomach and he was so close. And oh my God, who knew tongues could
do that? And then he yelled out and trembled as his orgasm rocked him and he
spilled himself in Cartman's mouth.
Cartman kept his mouth on Kyle for a few more seconds, drew back, and dragged
the back of his hand across his mouth. Kyle felt the sudden urge to cover
himself, but he enjoyed seeing Cartman in such a position too much to move even
though his legs were killing him.
"So, what, I don't get any comment about you swallowing?" Kyle finally said.
"Kyle, don't be a fag," said Cartman. "Your dirty Jew splooge was surprisingly
un-nasty."
"Probably because I don't eat a thousand chocolate-doughnut-pancake-blueberry-
syrup surprises everyday."
"Yeah, it must really suck being a diabetic Jew rat. Will my splooge mess up
your blood sugar, Kahl?"
"I don't know, but I'm not finding out." Kyle said before letting out a yelp
that even Sheila probably heard; Cartman had thumped his overly-sensitive cock.
"I hate you!" he shrieked, but again Cartman said nothing and merely hit the
backs of Kyle's knees, bringing him down. Kyle caught himself enough to shove
Cartman down too and hovered above him.
"Ready to get out of my room, fatso?"
"Not until you repay me." Cartman cocked a grin.
Kyle glanced down at the tent Cartman was pitching, hooked a finger beneath the
opening in the boxers and pulled it aside. He licked his lips absentmindedly
then leaned forward, flicking his tongue against the head experimentally.
Cartman's hips jerked upward and he slid easily past Kyle's teeth. Despite what
Kyle had thought before, the feeling of another boy's cock in his mouth wasn't
altogether unpleasant. He tried to mimic what Cartman had done, using his
tongue to swirl around the head or flick against the sides of his shaft, and
whatever he was doing, it was working. Cartman was squirming and making little
whining sounds completely different from those he made before. One of his hands
fastened in Kyle's huge mass of curly red hair and tugged, and Kyle shivered.
Making Eric Cartman lose all control really was satisfying.
Cartman came violently, and Kyle narrowly missed Cartman's knee coming up. He
probably would have given Kyle a fucking aneurysm if he'd hit him, but once he
was done, Kyle drew back and swallowed. Cartman was right about one thing: at
least another boy's semen was surprisingly un-nasty.
"Happy, asshole?"
Cartman shifted his glazed-over eyes to Kyle and slowly, a grin crept across
his features.
"Finally! After all these years, I win!"
"No, you fucking don't! You wanted me to suck your balls. That's different from
a penis, you retard."
"Kyle, this isn't anatomy class. Besides, I didn't suck your balls either, but
I don't see you complaining!" shouted Cartman.
"Shut the fuck up! You're going to wake up my parents."
Cartman rolled his eyes, sat up, and groped for his pants. When had those even
come off? And where were Kyle's boxers for that matter?
"So, Kyle," said Cartman with a gleam in his eyes.
"'So' what? I still hate you."
"Good. I don't want you going all faggy on me. But we should do this again
sometime, Kyle."
"Over my dead body, fatass."
"I love it when you talk dirty."
"Get out!"
Cartman pulled on the rest of his clothes, and giving a salacious wink, threw a
leg over the windowsill and disappeared.
"What is he, fucking Spiderman?" Kyle muttered before climbing back into bed.
Kyle woke up the next morning in a strange state of disbelief. He was too sore
for it to have all been some fucked up dream, which meant it had to be real.
And that was a scary thought. He shivered and realized he'd been standing in
front of his dresser in his underwear for twenty minutes.
Once in the kitchen fully dressed, he dropped into a seat and began pouring a
glass of milk when he lurched forward, milk sloshing over the glass and onto
the table. He glared up at his younger brother, who'd slapped him on the back.
"Nice job, Kyle."
"What, retard?"
"Get you some." Ike grinned.
"Oh, goddammit—"
"Get some what?" said Gerald, adjusting his yarmulke as he sat next to Kyle.
"Erm, cereal," he said, casting a sideways glance at Ike, who winked.
As they walked to school, Ike continued their conversation.
"'Oh, Cartman, do me harder!'" said Ike in a falsetto voice.
"Shut up!"
Ike only laughed harder.
"Just, goddamn, Kyle, it's about time," Ike rolled his eyes. "Sometimes having
the room next to yours is worth it."
"Ew, Ike, just…ew. You were listening the whole time? What a fucking perv."
"Yes, I'm so much worse than Cartman, who sneaks into your room to molest you
in the night."
Ike continued teasing Kyle during the rest of their walk, and his older brother
was relieved to reach the school.
"Remember, Kyle, use protection!" Ike winked saucily as they entered the main
hallway.
"Go to class, Ike!"
Kyle avoided Cartman as much as he was able during the school day, even
resorting to swapping lab partners with Token in science, and sitting with
Craig and those guys at lunch. In spite of all Kyle's efforts, however, the
first chance he had after lunch, Cartman sidled up to him at his locker.
"So Kahl, was it good for you too?"
"Don't."
"What, Kyle? A man has to pay attention to his bitch's needs. If it was bad for
you, then it was bad for the both of us. That's just the way it goes, Kyle."
Kyle slammed shut his locker and walked to Advanced Physics with Cartman in
tow, ignoring his stupid attempts to get Kyle riled up. It was working, but he
couldn't get suspended any time soon, and especially not for a stupid fatass
who'd given him a blowjob. Unfortunately, they still had French after lunch.
(And Cartman only took French to piss Kyle off.) And as much as he tried to sit
far away from Cartman, the stupid fatass still plopped down at the desk next to
his.
"Hey," whispered Cartman just after their French teacher began the day's
lesson. Kyle focused his eyes forward. "Hey, hey, Kyle," Cartman hissed more
loudly.
"Fuck off," Kyle whispered, remembering Garrison's words. Yeah, like this would
work.
"Kaaaa-aaahl. Kyle!"
"Kyle, what is the past participle of coucher?" the teacher said.
"Avoi—hey!" Kyle let out a strangled cry as Cartman reached beneath the table
and squeezed Kyle's crotch.
"Boys, is there a problem?" snapped the teacher.
"No, not at all." Kyle would swear Cartman batted his eyes. "Kyle, you were
saying?"
After Kyle successfully answered the question, he yanked Cartman's hand off his
pants, which were quickly growing uncomfortable, and angrily hissed, "Bathroom.
Five minutes."
"Oh-ho!" Cartman smirked, earning a glare from Kyle.
Once both boys convinced the teacher they did, in fact, have to go to the
bathroom simultaneously, Kyle made sure the room was empty before pushing
Cartman against the wall for the second time in a month.
"I knew you'd be back for more, Kyle, you dirty, dirty girl. Are you ready to
take our relationship to the next level? You know, I really respect—"
"Shut up!"
"Hey, hey," Cartman put up his hands defensively with a wicked glimmer in his
eyes, "all I'm saying is we have thirty minutes before P.E."
Kyle said nothing, and crushed his mouth against Cartman's. If this was the
only way to keep Cartman's mouth shut, he guessed it was worth it. Even if it
wasn't the last time.
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